


the calm before the storm

by heyrebelgrrrl



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:00:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26691049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyrebelgrrrl/pseuds/heyrebelgrrrl
Summary: just a quiet, tender moment between two gal pals. occurs directly after 2x10.
Relationships: Myka Bering & Helena "H.G." Wells, Myka Bering/Helena "H. G." Wells
Comments: 1
Kudos: 36





	the calm before the storm

In Middle of Nowhere, South Dakota with nothing around for miles, you can hear everything at night. You can hear the brilliance of the crickets in the distance and the subtle rustle of leaves in the gentle wind. You can hear the creak and groan of the old house that’s become your home, and—  
  
“Uuuuuugh.”  
  
… every single second that ticks past during a night where sleep evades you.  
  
Myka sighs and throws back the covers, the moonlight streaming through her window just bright enough to create the shadow of her silhouette against the wall. Tonight she’s nothing but a mess of curls and frustration.  
  
It’s been nearly a week since she’s gotten a good night’s sleep, her relationship with Artie having been so strained and stressful that it’s kept her up at night. She didn’t think it would last so long, she didn’t think Artie could be so steadfast in his anger toward her when all she wanted to do was to help and do what she thought was right and… and now Myka’s left floundering—wondering if they’ll ever fully repair their relationship.  
  
Although Pete and Lena have been cautiously optimistic in the face of Claudia’s incredulity, as the days pass by, Myka’s only grown more despondent. Even in the wake of his subtle praise, Myka’s still nervous that maybe it was just a fluke. That perhaps, come morning, he’ll be just as angry as he was the day before that she’d gone over his head and submitted a report on H.G.’s behalf, imploring the regents to see the humanity that Myka knows to exist within her.  
  
It’s this very thought that’s keeping her awake tonight, a little less hopeless but anxious all the same. These past few sleepless nights, Myka’s taken to roaming the empty halls of the B&B while everyone else dreams, having accepted that it will be hours before she can slip into an exhausted, dreamless slumber herself. Tonight is no exception.  
  
As it turns out, she doesn’t mind the solitude so much when her mind isn’t being her own worst enemy. Despite how endless the warehouse is, she can’t remember the last time she’s been alone—truly alone.  
  
But tonight, when she crosses the threshold of the kitchen, Myka is greeted by a now familiar outline.  
  
“Helena,” Myka says, voice hushed as the figure turns to reveal a steaming mug of something cradled by two hands.  
  
“Myka.” Helena’s tone is even and smooth as always. Annoyingly unshakable, even when it’s past midnight and she’s taken by surprise. “I didn’t take you for a night-owl.”  
  
“I’m not.” She pauses. “Not usually.”  
  
“Well I do hope you’ll forgive me for delighting in your misfortune if it means your company,” H.G. smiles and idly gestures for Myka to properly join her in the kitchen. “Can I interest you in some tea?”  
  
As Myka makes her way into the kitchen to join Helena at the table, it hits her—and not for the first time—that one of her favorite authors and arguably one of the most brilliant minds of all time has just offered to pour her a cup of tea. She’s still trying to wrap her head around it, an achievement she’ll never obtain.  
  
“Ah… yeah. Sure. Yes,” Myka smiles as she sinks down into the chair that’s to the right of Helena’s. “Tea sounds nice.”  
  
Helena sets her own mug down upon the table and rises to fix Myka her own, the water in the kettle still hot.  
  
Myka turns her head to watch as Helena moves around the kitchen with an ease that’s almost surprising. It’s good to see her making herself at home already. After years upon years of being held captive in the bronze sector, she deserves a bit of comfort.  
  
“Are you?” A pause. “Usually night-owl?”  
  
“Oh yes, darling,” Helena replies and Myka can hear the smile she’s wearing as she retrieves a mug and a tea bag. “Even before becoming a warehouse agent, regular hours weren’t really my thing. Between striking while the inspiration was hot and motherhood, well…” By the time Helena trails off, she’s setting the mug down in front of Myka and sitting back down beside her. “Although I do suppose getting re-accustomed to being among the living after nearly a century might have something to do with it this time ‘round.”  
  
Myka’s laughter is more of a gentle huff as she snakes both hands around the warm ceramic, thankful to have something that not only occupies her hands, but also anchors her. Despite having fought for Helena to be reinstated, Claudia isn’t the only one who feels nervous in her presence.  
  
“Yeah, I… can only imagine what that must be like for you.” Myka shakes her head, getting lost in the swirling steam rising off of her tea. “Actually, I can’t,” she admits and turns her head to catch Helena’s gaze. “I can’t imagine what it must be like. To be encased in bronze and completely conscious for close to a hundred years and then brought into a completely new world with—with practically nothing and no one… I—”  
  
“Well, when you put it that way…” Helena drawls.  
  
“No! No. I didn’t… I just…” Myka blunders.  
  
“Breathe, Myka,” Helena chuckles and reaches out to place a hand atop Myka’s to assuage her panic. “You didn’t offend me. Quite the opposite, actually.” Her fingers slip from atop Myka’s hand and retreat into her lap, though her gaze remains. Myka finds herself unable to look away and sees the way H.G.’s features seem to soften as their eyes meet.  
  
“You’re the only one in this entire world who was willing to take a chance on me. Every second I spend in this new world I am acutely aware that had it not been for you, your empathy, and your… unerring desire to do what you feel is right, who knows where I’d be. I cannot tell you how thankful I am to know the answer to that particular question will forever remain a mystery.”  
  
“You deserved a second chance, Helena.” Myka’s quick to respond, the urge to reassure Helena almost overwhelming. “And I’m not the only one who believes that. Claudia sees it too, and Lena, and… and I know that Artie and Pete will come around eventually. They just need some time.”  
  
“Oh, I’m not worried about them.” Helena waves a hand as if to brush the topic off entirely. “If anything, I’m concerned with the strain it’s put on _your_ relationship with them.”  
  
“I’m not worried about them,” Myka shakes her head and smiles, echoing Helena’s sentiment. A lie, but a miniscule one. And in the end, she’ll wind up taking far bigger risks for the likes of Helena G. Wells.  
  
“We all need and—and deserve someone in our corner. Someone who… doesn’t only look at us, but sees us. Someone who hears us, who… understands us. And while I don’t know the whole story about your circumstances, I do know what it feels like to lose someone you love.” Myka averts her gaze down toward the untouched tea in the mug she’s still cradling. “To be consumed with grief.”  
  
“So you’ve… lost someone too,” Helena concludes.  
  
“I did. Before I joined the Warehouse, when I was in the Secret Service, I lost my partner. I can’t imagine it even comes close to the pain of losing your daughter, but I do know what it is to be completely engrossed with this idea of getting revenge.” Myka turns her gaze back over at Helena. “We’re not so different, you and I.”  
  
“I guess not,” Helena hums. “Though, I see where you and I _do_ differ.” She taps a finger on the rim of Myka’s untouched mug. “You Americans… It’s going to be bitter and cold before you ever take a sip.” Rising from her seat, Helena rinses her empty mug and turns to face Myka. “So I shall leave you to your tea. And your thoughts.”  
  
Before Helena can take her leave, Myka reaches out with a hand to her wrist as she passes by.  
  
“You did a good job today, Helena.”  
  
There is a long moment during which they do nothing but gaze at one another. In the end, it’s Helena who looks away first, almost bashfully. Myka wonders if anyone else has ever been giving the divine gift of seeing the great H.G. Wells like this. Smaller. Still so full of life, but in a… quiet way. It’s some sweet mixture of humbling and charming that Myka wouldn’t mind seeing more of.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
Helena seems as though she’s contemplating saying something else, narrowed gaze now staring straight into Myka’s yet at the same time, a world away. She opens and closes her mouth a few times like a fish out of water, and it’s nothing but silence until—  
  
“We almost lost you today.”   
  
“Yeah it’s ah…” Myka exhales, now her turn to look away as she nods. Out of everyone, she thought it would be Claudia who broke down first and told the truth of what happened while she and Pete were in their own version of Back to the Future. “You know. Part of the gig,” Myka shrugs.  
  
Helena shakes her head. “I didn’t like it.”  
  
Myka’s breath hitches in her throat and something flutters in the pit of her stomach. This is the first of many instances in which she’s left to read between the lines, as Helena doesn’t make any further effort to elaborate. Not that she needs to. Somehow Myka knows exactly what she means without having to ask.  
  
Not waiting for Myka to respond, Helena inhales and smiles, fully aware that her message has landed as intended.  
  
“Goodnight.”  
  
A few beats of silence pass as Helena begins to head back to her room. She’s just out of sight when something comes over Myka and she softly calls out her name.  
  
“Helena?”  
  
She doesn’t respond but instead returns to the kitchen, lingering in the threshold. Her presence is enough.  
  
“What did you mean… earlier. You know, that whole ‘many of my lovers were men’ thing? I know it’s probably none of my business, but I just—I—”  
  
“Now, there’s really no fun in it for me if I spell it out for you, Myka,” Helena drawls, clearly amused. “Might I suggest you… figure it out for yourself? You’re a warehouse agent, after all. _Follow the clues_.”  
  
Myka turns just in time to catch Helena’s suggestively arched brow and she laughs.  
  
“I don’t know why I asked,” she admits with a grin, refusing to take Helena’s bait regardless of how perfectly placed it might be.  
  
“Goodnight, Helena,” Myka sighs and turns back to her cold and bitter tea.  
  
Helena lingers in the doorway for just a moment longer and Myka can feel the weight of the gaze upon her. As if Helena’s trying to perfectly memorize the vision of this moment. To forever capture it inside her mind.  
  
“Goodnight, Myka.”  
  
And Helena, already aware of how future events were going to play out, absorbs the last of this perfect little moment and leaves Myka to her own devices. As she climbs the stairs and they creak beneath her, a gentle smile resting upon her lips, Helena contemplates whether or not this could all be enough for her. She thinks that maybe tonight is a sign, that this second chance is a gift.  
  
That night she dreams of Christina and wakes up in the morning, the pillowcase wet with tears, having made her decision.  
  
In the end she only adds to her grief, having lost Myka Bering after all.


End file.
